


Phosphorescence

by unsungyellowraincoat



Category: SKAM (Norway)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Established Relationship, Love, M/M, Mild Sexual Content, Post-Canon, Slice of Life, Travel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-20
Updated: 2018-06-20
Packaged: 2019-05-25 22:18:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,291
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14986772
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/unsungyellowraincoat/pseuds/unsungyellowraincoat
Summary: Maybe they will all get there one day.To a place of no fear.*They go to Latvia.





	Phosphorescence

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! I wrote this for the Evakteket summer challenge. I wrote a summer fic last year, and I'm in the middle of a chaptered summer fic this year, too, so yeah, I wasn't going to participate in this challenge, but then on Sunday I got greedy and all of this happened. 
> 
> My prompts were beach, speaking a foreign language, and world's tiniest shorts. I listened to [More Than This](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kOnde5c7OG8) by Roxy Music like a million times while writing this.
> 
> A massive thank you to [Sue](https://julieseven.tumblr.com/) for looking over my English. My unbeta'ed grammar is an abomination. Having said that, some of this is unbeta'ed, so you may encounter an abomination or two. Please think of them as exotic treats from a Finnish language brain.
> 
> A special thanks to my life and travel partner of seven years for unknowingly inspiring most of this fic. 
> 
> This fic takes places in Latvia. I've never been there. I'm also not Norwegian, and English is not my native language. Proceed with caution!
> 
> I'm [@isaksbestpillow](https://isaksbestpillow.tumblr.com/) on tumblr, come and say hi!

The airport is not fully awake yet.

Somewhere a cash register clings, and Eskild’s chattering makes a ripple in Isak’s coffee. Isak rests his elbows on the table, his chin between his fists, and imagines an invisible water strider caught in his cup.

”Did everyone receive the latest corrections to Latvian_phrases.xlsx?” Eskild asks, his intent gaze moving from Even fiddling with his phone to Isak scowling at his coffee to Linn snoozing on her chair.

Even is the only one who as much as nods. He’s always been kind that way.

Unfazed by his zombified audience, Eskild carries on with his chatter. “There was a typo on Lūdzu— _silly_ me—, but I have corrected it now, rest assured, and also added a pronunciation guide—Linn, the look on your face tells me you did not receive the file, it’s a good thing I printed it out, here my dear, put this in your purse, or in that, that, _thing_ —oh, and did everyone save the maps on Google Maps on their phone, this is _very_ important—”

Isak hides a yawn in the crook of Even’s neck. “Are we going to Latvia or the Bermuda Triangle?” he mutters.

Even chuckles, blowing air to Isak’s hair. “At least we now know who I’d take with me to a deserted island,” he whispers into Isak’s ear, laughing as Isak jerks away with a betrayed look on his face.

“You’d miss me,” Isak pouts before proceeding to take a loud sip of Even’s breakfast smoothie.

“Maybe,” Even grins and puts his phone away before crossing his fingers behind his head. “It’s hard to tell, given that we haven’t spent a single night apart in over a year.”

“We haven’t? Man, we’re gross,” Isak wrinkles his nose, eyes glued to an unfinished tuna sandwich on Even’s side of the table. “Aren’t you going to finish that, babe?” he asks then, smiling sweetly when Even reaches to pass the plate to him.

Linn stirs on her chair, causing the piece of paper Eskild has placed on her lap to flutter to the floor. As Even crouches to pick it up, she slowly opens her eyes.

“Are we there yet?” she asks with a hint of hopefulness in her voice.

“Still in Norway,” Isak mumbles with his mouth full of tuna, then swallows and wipes the corners of his mouth before adding, “Just like we were an hour ago.”

Like most bothersome things in life, leaving for the airport three hours early had been Eskild’s idea—just in case there would be an accident on the way, or a parade, or, you know, a sale in one of the boutiques at the airport.

They’d made it sans accidents, unless one counts the piece of dog shit—fuckety fuck—stuck on Isak’s sneakers, and, to no one’s surprise, none of the boutiques are catering to broke students. Long story short, here they are now, sleep deprived in an airport café with an hour to kill before their flight to Latvia—which has never been on Isak’s must-visit list.

Not that he has anything against Latvia, not at all. In fact, he is rather excited to go on this trip with his favorite person and, well, Eskild and Linn. It is, however, quite a compromise, considering how his original pitch had been a trip to watch the World Cup—maybe not as big of a disappointment to him as to Linn who had voted for a trip to the Moon, but nevertheless a blow to his dreams of seeing Sergio Ramos in the flesh.

Even had been more lenient, suggesting the elusive anywhere as his option—sometimes his refusal to take a stance can be _so_ annoying—, whereas Eskild had been keen on the French Riviera until a look at their budget and Linn’s uncle’s cabin in Latvia had convinced him that Latvia would offer them the perfect compromise: it’s _somewhere_ , there are beaches there, and the moon up in the sky, and geographically you’d be closer to the world cup than by staying in Norway.

“We still have time to practice our phrases. Repeat after me,” Eskild says, “Would you like to dance with me—Vai Jūs vēlaties dejot?”

Isak rolls his eyes. “Vai Jūs mmmmhh,” he mumbles, the foreign and unfamiliar sounds turning into porridge in his mouth.

He does, however, recognize the gentle fingers brushing his knuckles.

The corners of his mouth turn up. “Hi,” he whispers.

“Hi,” Even smiles back.

*

Isak pinches his nose and swallows.

This is why he hates flying, he thinks, having now experienced exactly one take-off and one landing.

“You okay there?” Even asks.

“My ears got clogged during the landing,” Isak says with a grimace as his ears pop. “Ah, there. No need to call the paramedics.”

Even grins, hooking a finger through the belt loop of Isak’s jeans. “I wonder if the local paramedics are hot.”

Isak shoots him an unamused look. “Let’s hope we won’t have to find out.”

Eskild claps his hands. “May I have your attention,” he announces, looking pleased when the three of them gather around him like baby ducks.

“Let’s see,” he chews on his lip while studying the notes app on his phone, brows furrowing in concentration. “First, we take the line 22 bus to Zolitūdes iela, _then_ take the line 43 bus to Mežmalas iela, from where we take the walk to Imanta, and then _finally_ take the line 6401 train to Jūrmala. This should take us about an hour as long as Isak and Linn don’t get distracted by anything shiny. Everybody with me?”

“Let’s get going,” Even says, throwing his backpack over his shoulder— _their_ backpack, Isak reminds himself. Their shared backpack that they’d packed with their shared things: lube, meds, deodorant, headphones, underwear, a couple of t-shirts, a deck of cards, a pack of ham that would have expired in the fridge otherwise.

It’s a nice feeling, sharing things to carry; a life lived together, being passed from shoulder to shoulder.

It’s a soft glow in his belly, like mulled wine in midwinter.

Even as they get on the crowded bus and hold onto the pole for their lives, the feeling deep in his belly glows and glows.

*

They’re on a train.

Isak rests his elbow at the bottom of the window, watching with mild curiosity as Eskild records a snoring Linn for his Instagram story on the opposite seat. The train is moving fast now, blurry rows of pine trees quickly becoming water and sand; Latvia is beautiful, like an old photograph hidden away in his grandma’s drawer.

It’s funny how only a few hours ago Isak had woken up at home with Even’s warm weight pressed against his back, and now he is here, in Latvia, in a whole different country, gazing at the sea with Even’s warm weight pressed against his arm.

The sun shines into Even’s and Linn’s faces from the opposite window. They look different, somehow, yet still the same. Ethereal, but on a train; ordinary blood and ordinary bones underneath their heavenly radiant skin.

Isak reaches out to brush a loose strand of hair off Even’s forehead. Even responds by rolling his head from side to side, then gives Isak a smile.

“We’re almost there,” Even mouths, perhaps to avoid waking Linn. He’s always been kind that way.

If they were at home, this is where Isak would clasp Even’s hand, maybe curl up into him a little bit, like a cat that has just found the perfect spot in the sun.

But they’re in Latvia now, on untracked ground, and Isak doesn’t know how people will react. It frustrates him, even though he does try to suppress the feeling, because he doesn’t want to ruin this moment by thinking of universes where the moment could be better.

As though sensing Isak’s thoughts, Even moves his hand to squeeze Isak’s index finger. Isak crooks his finger, studies a piece of cuticle sticking out. “Almost there,” he mouths at it.

When Isak looks up, Eskild is smiling at him.

Isak smiles back.

Maybe they will all get there one day.

To a place of no fear.

*

“Are we there yet?” Linn murmurs, stirring in her seat.

“In a minute, dear” Eskild says. “Time to wake up and smell the…” he begins to furiously type something into his phone, then looks up with a raised brow, “…kafija.”

Isak picks up the bag jammed between his and Even’s legs to tidy up. The piece of gum wrapped in a tissue goes into the trash, the half-empty bottle of soda into the bag where it—

“Fuck,” Isak moans, biting his thumb in irritation. “You didn’t think of sealing the cap?”

Some of the soda is still in the bottle, but most of it is, well, _not_.

“I was still drinking from it,” Even says defensively as he reaches to grab the bottle from Isak’s hand.

Isak clenches his jaw. “When we’re almost at the station and you should be getting ready?”

Even shrugs. “You could’ve asked.”

“And you could’ve paid some attention!” Isak snaps. “Look at these clothes, they’re all ruined now.”

“I wouldn’t go as far as—” Eskild tries to reassure, but soon throws his hands up in defeat as Isak cuts him off with a glare.

“They’re all wet and sticky.”

“Sorry”, Even says, and Isak feels a pang of guilt in his stomach.

Linn yawns. “My uncle has a washing machine,” she says with a hand covering her mouth.

Even smiles at her, then looks at Isak with steady eyes. “Let’s just put our stuff in a plastic bag and figure this out once we’re in the cabin, okay?” he suggests calmly.

Isak takes a deep breath, then gives him a thin smile. He didn’t come all this way to have a pointless domestic argument. “Yeah,” he nods and begins to sort their stuff into sticky and clean.

With four pairs of hands it doesn’t take long for the situation to calm down. By the time the train pulls into the station, the prickly wave of irritation surging through Isak’s body is but a low rumble in his stomach.

“Hungry?” Even asks after they’ve gotten off and started to walk towards the cabin.

Isak snorts. “Could eat a fucking horse,” he grunts and picks up his pace while shielding his eyes from the sun.

“Arklys,” Eskild huffs from a few feet away. “No, sorry, that was horse in _Lithuanian_. Zirgs!”

Isak exchanges an amused look with Even, then turns his heel to smirk at Eskild who has started to fall behind.

“Hurry the zirgs up,” he yells before grabbing Even by the elbow.

The sun is soft on their shoulders.

The closer they get to the sea, the louder the waves sing.

*

Isak burps.

He’s well-fed and slightly tipsy on cheap Latvian beer after an outing to a local eatery Eskild found online.

Right now, life is good.

Their clothes are in the tumble dryer. There’s Eskild, parading around the room in his swimming trunks while trying to find a match on Grindr like some nudist stockbroker. There’s Linn, sitting cross legged on the sofa drawing moustaches on people in old Latvian gossip magazines. There’s Even, leafing through Linn’s uncle’s record collection, carefully brushing dust off of a Whitney Houston LP jacket.

“Put it on,” Isak says from across the room.

Even raises an eyebrow. “I thought you couldn’t stand this shit.”

“Babe, we’re in _Latvia_ ,” Isak whines, sliding the few feet separating them in his socks to sling his arms around Even’s waist. “Put it on,” he demands, more petulantly now.

“Alright, alright,” Even laughs, then gently pushes Isak off of him to put the record on.

The needle makes a scratching sound, and for a moment the record spins in silence. It’s one of those fraught silences where everyone is waiting with bated breath for the butler to step up and confess.

Finally, the first notes of I Wanna Dance With Somebody start playing, and laughter bubbles out of them.

Isak takes Even’s hand and leans in to nibble at his ear. “Would you like to Vai Jūs whatever-the-fuck with me?”

“Vai Jūs vēlaties dejot,” Eskild interjects.

”What he said,” Isak chuckles against Even’s warm skin.

“I don’t remember the response,” Even laughs.

Linn looks up from her magazine. “I think you’re just supposed to dance with him.”

“That, I know how to do,” Even says, and spins Isak around.

*

The sea is serene at midnight, smooth like wrapping film.

They’ve been walking along the beach for over an hour now, maybe two, watching the sun sink into the horizon side by side. It’s not dark, but it’s not bright, either: the night is a bluish gray, like a big sleeping cat.

Soon the cat will wake up.

“Let’s take a break,” Even says and sits down in the white sand. “Our first long walk by the beach,” he says dramatically with a hand on his chest, then bursts into laughter. “Who knew romance could be so hard on the legs.”

Isak grins and gathers Even’s legs in his lap, beginning to massage his calves. “Remember our first fight?” he asks.

Even laughs. He’s laughing a lot on this trip, Isak’s noticed.

“Over who burned the pizza? How could I forget—” Even lets out a groan then, throwing his head back, “ouch, right there, right there, don’t stop.”

Isak smiles, then drops his gaze. “That was stupid. And today on the train, that was stupid, too.”

“Nobody’s. At. Fault,” Even puffs between groans, voice strained from pain.

Isak hums, softening the movement of his hands. “Sometimes I forget that us arguing doesn’t mean we’re gonna break up, and I’ll have to move back to Eskild’s basement.”

“I’ll be here to remind you,” Even says, seemingly having regained his composure.

“Wouldn’t be so sure,” Isak says teasingly, then pets Even’s knee. “Latvia’s great, but the day after tomorrow you’re coming back home with me, mister.”

Even gives Isak’s shoulder a push. “Smartass.”

Isak grins. “Massage over, babe. My wrist needs its beauty sleep.”

“Thanks, I really needed that,” Even leans in to kiss Isak on the cheek before sprawling out his arms and legs in the sand.

Isak begins to idly scoop up sand with his hands. He builds a hill, then another one. He places a pine needle on top of each, then bites his lip and shakes his head, moving one pine needle next to the other one. They’ll be happier together, he thinks.

“Do you want to know where I’d like to go next?” he asks after a moment of quiet.

“Down on me,” Even deadpans.

“Smartass,” Isak laughs, sand falling from his fists.

Even sits up, his hair all messy and sandy now. “Tell me.”

“You know those beaches awash in bioluminescent polyplankton? I’d like to see it one day.”

“I assume we’ll have to travel further than Mandal for that.”

“Yeah,” Isak nods, resuming his hill of sand. “More like Puerto Rico or the Maldives.”

“That’s far.”

“We’d have to save up quite a bit. Or I’d have to save up—”

“ _We_ , Isak,” Even says emphatically.

“We,” Isak nods.

They’re in this together.

*

“What do you call it, when the ocean glows like that?” Even asks.

“Phosphorescence,” Isak says. “Basically, it refers to a process where you have energy absorbed by a substance that is then released in the form of light, and the releasing part happens pretty slowly, so it’s different from fluorescence.”

The corners of Even’s eyes crinkle. “You science nerds have such complicated words for love.”

Isak raises an eyebrow. “Maybe you can make a movie of it.”

Even curls his lip. “The Phosphorescence of Isak Valtersen. Not bad. If we play our cards right, it could be the biggest sci-fi hit since Inception. We could have Cate Blanchett play me.”

“Fuck off,” Isak snorts. “But listen. Do you think you could take a picture of it?”

“Of phosphorescence? Why not, with a proper camera.”

“No, I mean—,” Isak gesticulates with his hands, “I mean the _feeling_.”

Even seems to get what he means, somehow. Or at least he pulls out his phone and says, “It’s pretty dark, but we can try.”

They huddle up close, wrapping an arm around each other. Isak rests his head on Even’s shoulder.

It’s a bad picture. Even’s eyes are closed, Isak’s are red. With the flash lighting up their faces, they look like a couple of lost Norwegian pharaohs.

Even seems fascinated by it. “I don’t know whether to call this bad or artistic,” he laughs.

“Could you send it to me?” Isak asks. “I want to send it to my mom.”

Even’s eyes widen briefly, but then he smiles. “Of course,” he says. “But it’s getting chilly out here, I think we should start heading back inside.”

“Yeah,” Isak agrees. They’ve been out long enough.

Eskild’s probably already googling how to say ‘have you seen these boys’ in Latvian, and Isak doesn’t want to worry him. Mostly because Eskild says worrying gives him wrinkles, and Isak has heard enough of Eskild’s wrinkles to last a lifetime. It’s mostly that, Isak thinks.

And a little bit of just not wanting Eskild to worry.

Just a little bit, though.

“Shall we then?” Even asks.

“Can we try one thing first? It’s a test,” Isak says.

“If it’s a pregnancy test, you’re in the wrong movie, babe.”

“We’re still in the Phosphorescence of Isak Valtersen. This is more of a taste test. But it’s brand-new, so it hasn’t been tested yet.”

“A test that hasn’t been tested?” Even smirks. “Alright, walk me through it. You’re the star.”

Isak stands up and shakes his clothes out before offering Even a hand to pull him to his feet. “First, we breathe in the Latvian sea air,” he says, taking an exaggeratedly long breath.

“Step one, breathe. Got it. Then what?”

Isak turns to look at Even with a grin. “Then we kiss,” he says, basking in the twinkle of Even’s amused eyes. “And then we analyze if we felt or tasted anything different from before.”

Even winks. “Got it. I’m in.”

“Great. First, we breathe in. On three, okay? One, two, three—”

“Kiss me for science,” Even says, pulling Isak close.

Isak laughs against Even’s mouth before pushing his tongue in.

*

After their mouths separate, Even leans their foreheads together, nuzzling Isak’s nose with his own.

It’s a form of communication they’ve developed for themselves. On days when words feel too loud or heavy, there is still this: nose against nose, forehead against forehead, skin, atoms, pulsing veins, quiet breaths slowing down.

Where skin touches skin, what’s beneath it can transmit and glow.

“I love you,” Even murmurs breathlessly, planting a kiss on Isak’s brow before letting go of him.

A chill runs down Isak’s spine. It’s late, and the damp sea air along his arms is making him shiver.

“I love you too,” he says.

It’s not the first time he’s said the words, and it undoubtedly won’t be the last, but it’s one of those times he thinks will stay in his memory. The way Even’s eyes shine in the dusk; how a grain of sand sticks onto the corner of his mouth when Isak run’s his thumb there; how his shoulders form a silhouette soft as the undulating waves against the foreign night.

“Did we pass the test?” Even whispers.

“I think so,” Isak replies. “Why are we whispering?”

Even chuckles. “I don’t know. What are nights for if not for whispering?” he says, and Isak doesn’t know whether to kiss him or smack him.

“Did you taste anything different?” Even asks then.

Isak shakes his head. “I don’t think so. You tasted familiar, good. Like kissing. You tasted like kissing. How about you? Was there something different about me?”

Even strokes his chin. “Could it be that you forgot to brush your teeth this morning?”

Isak crosses his arms defiantly. “Hey now! You were there yourself.”

“In all seriousness, I didn’t notice anything different,” Even says, slinging an arm around Isak’s shoulders, their feet digging into the sand.

“How would you describe it?”

“How would I describe it?” Even repeats, ushering them toward the cabin. “You tasted like home.”

*

to Mom:

Hi Mom, Even and I are in Latvia. We like it here. Even took this picture. Unfortunately, I have turned into a vampire. Hugs, Isak

from Mom:

I’m glad you are having fun. Your secret is safe with me, Vampire. Have you developed an appetite for black pudding? Hugs, Mom

*

Mornings in Latvia arrive early.

An hour earlier than back home, to be exact.

Eskild doesn’t even bother to knock before marching into their bedroom. “Rise and shine, rise and shine,” he sings-songs, looking so pleased with himself that Isak wouldn’t be surprised to hear he’s found the sun shining out of his ass while they were sleeping.

“It’s 8 in the morning!” Isak croaks, burying his head deeper into his pillow.

“ _Nine_ here in Latvia, “Eskild corrects him, “A day full of adventure awaits.”

“We’re tired,” Isak protests and rolls over for a cuddle, but Even has already sat up, and all Isak can gets his arms around is Even’s hairy leg. “Traitor,” Isak mouths at him.

Even shakes his leg. “Wake up, sleepy head,” he says.

“I’m awake, thank you very much.”

Even laughs.

“What?” Isak asks, fully aware of how irritated he sounds. “Did you also shit a sunray?”

Even shrugs, then bends to capture Isak’s mouth in a kiss, morning breath and all. “Who needs sunrays when I’ve got you,” he says.

*

It’s a disaster.

“This can’t be,” Isak moans in agony.

“It says so right here: do not tumble try,” Linn says.

“I can’t go out wearing these!” Isak whines. “These are, like, the world’s tiniest shorts. You can see _everything_!”

“Is that a banana in your shorts, or are you just happy to see me?” Even smirks, slapping Isak’s ass.

“I am not happy! I bought these shorts two days ago for this trip!”

“Babe, you still have your jeans,” Even says. “Or you can take my shorts, if you want, I won’t mind.”

“But it’s so _hot_ today! And if I take your shorts, then _you_ ’ll have to be in uncomfortable jeans, and I _do_ mind that.”

“I have the perfect solution, for I always bring in an extra pair of everything,” Eskild says. “You never know which lover will find a way to shrink his only pair of shorts.”

“I didn’t _shrink_ my shorts. They _shrank_.”

“Do you want my shorts, or do you want a book on semantics for children?”

Isak picks the shorts.

*

The beach is crowded.

Even the seagulls are laughing.

Isak regrets everything.

“Is that Mariah Carey Rainbow World Tour on your shorts, or are you just happy to see me?” Even nudges him.

“Don’t even talk to me right now,” Isak says.

*

Nights in Latvia arrive early, too.

An hour earlier than back home, to be exact.

Isak crawls into bed where Even is already waiting for him with a book in hand, planting a kiss on Even’s bicep before lying down beside him.

Even stretches himself to lay the book onto the night stand, then turns towards Isak, supporting himself on his elbow.

They smile at each other.

“Today was fun,” Isak begins.

Even’s eyes twinkle. “You looked hot,” he says.

Isak rolls his eyes. “I’m not ready to talk about it.”

Even laughs. “We don’t have to talk about it. But I’ll be thinking about it, just so you know.”

Isak ignores the teasing tone in Even’s voice, instead focusing on drawing a line across Even’s naked chest with his finger. “Tomorrow, we go home,” he says.

Even kisses Isak’s eyelid. “I’ve had fun,” he murmurs.

“Some things might change,” Isak says quietly, almost as though talking to himself, his fingers starting to draw a more complicated pattern. “This fall, when we both go to uni. I’ll meet new people, you’ll meet new people, and you’ll still have your job, and I should get a job…”

“Are you worried about that?”

Isak bites his lip.

The only constant is change, he remembers someone wise saying once.

A few short years ago he wouldn’t have been caught dead in Eskild’s Mariah Carey fanwear.

That’s because the Isak in the past is different from the Isak here now, caressing his boyfriend’s nipple with the pads of his fingers.

“I’m not worried about that,” he says. “I trust you.”

Even takes Isak’s face in his hands and kisses him.

Eventually, as their kisses become wetter and wetter, the heat around them begins to grow a body, a pulsating and twisting being devouring their hungry mouths and tangled legs.

Isak drags his open palm along Even’s torso, moving his other hand to caress Even’s sides and hip bones, then all the way down, fingers closing around Even’s hardening cock. “Do you want to?” he asks.

“Yeah,” Even breathes, again and again, then licks a stripe across Isak’s neck, his toes rubbing Isak’s ankle, up and down, up and down. “Do you?”

Isak spits into his hand. “I want,” he says.

Moments later, when Even is moving inside of him, when their linked hands tremble in the air, when their spit and sweat pools in Isak’s belly button, when they’re forehead against forehead, moan against moan, rushing into a place where their eyes can hear and their mouths can see: There exists no Isak or Latvia or Mariah Carey; no pictures, no movies, no long walks by the beach; no endings no beginnings no things that fall in between.

There is only energy.

Absorbed and released.

 


End file.
